


Repaying the debt

by CodenameAntarctica



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: AxF, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameAntarctica/pseuds/CodenameAntarctica
Summary: „You kept him company today. I’ll be sure to return this debt someday”, Asami had told Fei Long, when he picked up the drunken Akihito from a small, exclusive bar in Hong Kong.Now is the night to make good on that promise when Fei Long visits Tokyo for a business meeting on his birthday and sits alone in the bar of the Ritz-Carlton.(Set somewhen after Volume 5 & Finder no Rakuin, but before Volume 9, and yes, completely AU, I know! This is just for the joy of writing and imagining.)
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Liu Fei Long
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyLigeia07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLigeia07/gifts), [Carlatreca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carlatreca/gifts).



> First of all:  
> This is complete AU. I know this is complelely AU. You know it is completely AU. Something like this will never happen in the Manga... So please don't run into my comment section telling me how AU this is. If you don't like anything but AxA, then please stick to AxA. ;)
> 
> Timeline:   
> For this fic I have to alter Finder’s timeline a tiny bit. The Pudding-Extra with the “I’ll be sure to return this debt someday” quote must have happened somewhen AFTER the “Pray in the Abyss”-plot (Volumes 9-11), because we learn in “PiA” that Akihito has not met with Fei Long since the Casino Ship. So, if the Pudding-Extra did happen at some point and is not simply a non-canon-fan-service-one-shot, then it must have happened after “PiA”.  
> I, however, have to place it before “PiA”. The time frame for this fic is somewhen AFTER Akihito moved in with Asami and BEFORE Chernobog attack their apartment. It is also set AFTER "Finder no Rakuin", which changed Fei Long's perception of sex by making him understand that intercourse with the same gender needn't be a powerplay or a form of violence but could be something he could indeed enjoy.
> 
> And finally:  
> For those of you who have read me before, this story is not part of the “Beyond the shallow ground”-universe. It’s in a different universe altogether, where MxF has not happened yet.

„You kept him company today. I’ll be sure to return this debt someday”, Asami had told Fei Long, when Akihito had fled to Hong Kong in anger about some stupid pudding disappearing from their fridge. For the loss – in fact he had offered the pudding to Kirishima – Asami had compensated Akihito later, yet before that he had had to punish him for running away. Not for the deed itself though, but because of _where_ he had went, or rather: because of to _whom_ he had turned.

In the small, exclusive bar to which the investigations of one detective he paid had led him, he had found the kid, almost falling asleep from the intoxication, with Fei Long, who really seemed to enjoy the company. Asami however had burst into their tête-à-tête, had thrown the brat over his shoulder and had thanked Fei Long, his eyes gleaming with anger.

“Boorish”, Fei Long had called him then, but Asami had nevertheless decided to stick to his word.

So _now_ , he found himself on the 53rd floor in the Club Lounge of the Ritz-Carlton, watching as the sun tinted the sky golden first, then violet blue beyond the black, misty shapes of the Tanzawa Mountains and the Fuji behind them. It had been a beautiful albeit cold day with a vast clear sky that allowed such a wide gaze. It was also February the 1st \- the birthday of the man for whom he waited – not that the other knew.

When Asami had sat down there the Club Lounge had been rather unimpressive. The early night however had turned it cozy and soothing with dark wood paneling the walls, with shelves full of expensive art books by world-class photographers, designers and architects, with a kind lighting and large mirrors.

He was not sure, _when_ the other man would show up. But he knew that he had arrived in Tokyo in the early morning on his private jet, that he had attended an important meeting and that he had booked one of the most expensive rooms in the whole city for the night. Of course, he could just fly home, but maybe he just didn’t want the hassle. His meeting was indeed just up the street. Then again, it was possible that he would change his plans. In that case Asami had kept his phone on, because he would be informed if there would be filed any new flight plan for the Bombardier jet to leave Narita Airport.

Now it was some minutes to eight and Asami still didn’t feel a bit annoyed about having to wait. _That_ was kind of surprising to himself. Then finally, he was approached by one of the waiters whom he had spoken to before, and who told him that the gentleman Asami had described to him, had arrived.

Asami thanked him and descended to the 45th floor, where _‘The Bar’_ offered yet another marvelous view of the city lights, while showing off expensive wines in large crystal caskets that looked very much like the glass coffin of snow white. Beyond the counter where the barkeepers worked in white suits with the silence only the top of their class mastered, some of the most expensive beverages in the world were tenderly illuminated by a light from below.

There had been little chance that the description Asami had given to the waiter – a young man, slender yet well-built and tall, with long, black hair, very likely dressed in an expensive designer suit - would fit to anybody else, and so it was indeed Fei Long, who sat at the bar counter alone. He had just been served a glass of Bourbon on the rocks, but still held it between his fingers, while he stared out of the window into the dark blue of the sky above Tokyo.

Asami approached him quietly and slowly, stopping a step behind.

 _‘Too bad’_ , he thought to himself. Now he had waited for so long and still hadn’t been in time to buy Fei Long the first drink of the evening.

“Happy Birthday”, he spoke in a low hum.

The Chinese turned around quickly and looked up to him with a startled expression. Asami just took that moment of the other remaining quiet in surprise and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing here?”, Fei Long finally managed to ask, still looking at him in incredulity.

“This is my city after all. I _would_ ask what _you_ are doing here, but I already know.”

“This is just a business matter, it has nothing to do with you privately or professionally”, the other shot at him, nonetheless. His eyes had turned dangerous by now, gleaming at the Japanese from beneath long, black lashes and a strain of silky hair that had fallen in his face.

“I said I _know_ ”, Asami simply retorted and ordered himself a drink. He knew _indeed_. Fei Long had met with a group of investors who had just by chance chosen to gather in Tokyo today. They had held conferences in Hong Kong, Shanghai and Seoul as well. This was one of the front businesses Fei Long kept up to hide Baishe’s activity and the true source of his power behind.

“What do you want?”, the next question shot at Asami, when he had gotten his drink. There was hostility – and a tiny bit uneasiness and irritation – in the Chinese’s voice and eyes.

“I told you I would repay you your kindness towards Akihito.”

“What are you talking about?”

Asami didn’t answer for a moment. He enjoyed his drink instead – and the amethyst eyes burning into him with growing anger.

“You kept him company. I wanted to return the favor. I can’t have you drink alone on your birthday.”

“Ha!”, Fei Long laughed to that, dry and hollowly.

“I’m not sure your company is better than none”, he hissed and turned back to his glass. Yet, despite his words, he did not get up to sit somewhere else, nor did he ask Asami to leave. He just held tight to the small crystal vessel with the golden Bourbon inside.

Asami kept to his own drink in the meantime, staring out onto the landscape of lights and trying to see which buildings he knew. As nice as the view was in general from here, all the sights of the city, like the Tokyo Tower and Sky Tree, the Shinjuku Metropolitan Government Building, or the Mori Tower could all not be seen from here.

After a long while it was Fei Long who broke the silence first: “How is Akihito?”

“Well and at home”, Asami answered. “He does not know you’re in the city. He does not know, I’m here. He just thinks I’m working late as usual.”

Shortly after Asami had brought Akihito back from being Fei Long’s hostage in Hong Kong – with a short layover on some tropical island - the kid had moved in with him… _ok,_ Asami had had him moved in, if that was a thing actually.

Somehow life together had worked out better than Asami had ever imagined, but he still kept tabs on the brat, paying private detectives to follow him around, and controlled the youngster’s _‘everyday’_ far more than he would ever like him to know. Yet it had taken a while until he had found out that Akihito had started to write emails to Fei Long – to which the Chinese surprisingly sometimes answered. It was trivialities of Akihito’s working days, of him meeting with friends or eating something he liked, and Fei Long replied to them scarcely and curtly, mostly sending greetings from that boy Tao.

Still, they had been in contact and Asami had never felt decisive on the question whether he was ok with that. He was sure that Akihito would not be able to give away any details of his business affairs, but he didn’t even want them to talk about him. Then he had found out that they _never_ did, and that had felt kind of strange as well.

It was like a little pang to his ego. He didn’t want them to talk about him, but he could not stand that Fei Long never even seemed interested in his whereabouts anyway.

When Akihito had then chosen to run to that _one man_ , rage and jealousy had overcome Asami, making him once more irrational. He had cancelled all his appointments and had flown over to Hong Kong right away, knowing that – though he would never allow himself to show any dissent towards his master – Kirishima was inwardly shaking his head at him.

It was rash and stupid, Asami knew that. Akihito made him that way and whenever he did, he would get punished for it. Back on that day, Asami had indeed disciplined him for both: For messing with his well-maintained coolness and for running to Fei Long.

And still, somehow, he had not found in Hong Kong what he had dreaded. Surely Fei Long could just have taken Akihito hostage again. He could have dragged him into Baishe HQ, that impenetrable fortress on the top floors of the IFC to execute some revenge on Asami. But he hadn’t. He had only been trying to get Akihito to his bed by seduction, not by force, and had met him in an accessible place, which Asami could enter without any effort.

For that Asami had felt kind of appreciative.

And he had meant what he said that day.

“You should have brought him along. He would be a nice company”, the Chinese hummed into his drink.

“No, he would not. He would feel uncomfortable in a place like this. And I wanted you for myself.”

At that Fei Long looked at him again, his dark eyes a bit wider than usual.

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked, but his voice remained nearly toneless. Most of the question Asami had to read from his lips.

“As I said. You kept him company. I mean to return that debt.”

He met the amethyst eyes with his own golden ones. _That gaze_ , he used, had been described as being _‘eye-fucked’_ by one of the most exquisite women he had ever been with. And it did its effect even on someone as impregnable, cold and defiant as Fei Long. He looked away and took a larger gulp of his drink than usual.

“Don’t get drunk. It would be a pity”, Asami heard his own smirk and drowned it in some golden liquor.

“What the fuck makes you think I want that?”, Fei Long swore. It was _very_ rare for him to do so and a pretty huge give away that he was being chased from his comfort zone.

“I can’t tell if you want that. But I’ll make this really easy for you”, Asami explained, without even looking at the other man. He let his Bourbon swivel around in the glass. “Just tell me your room number. I’ll be at your door in 30 minutes and it will be your decision if you open it or not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... have to make it three chapters, I guess ^^. Probably four... We'll see...

Maybe the Ritz-Carlton’s _‘Modern Japanese Suite’_ was not the most expensive in all of Tokyo, but it was very likely the most beautiful. Exactly 30 minutes after the Chinese had left the bar, Asami stepped in front of the cherrywood door of room 4811 and pressed the doorbell. The chime could hardly be discerned from inside.

Twice he would ring, _that_ he had told himself. If Fei Long didn’t answer the second calling, then he would leave.

Now he listened intently, trying to hear if anything moved inside the Suite, but the silence of the hotel’s corridor remained unbroken. It was so quiet he could in fact hear the fine, quaint ticking of his Rolex, when he raised his arm to check the time.

A minute had passed, and still nothing.

He clicked his teeth in irritation, when he put his finger to the tiny, round button of the doorbell again, without pressing it yet. As soon as he did, time was running out. He would not ring a third time. _No!_

However, if he used the bell _now_ the second countdown started.

With a sigh, that took him some effort to not make it sound annoyed, he finally pushed the button. Again, the faint chime could be heard only far away, and he waited, listening, counting the seconds in his mind, trying hard not to let his mood slip with the time that ran past him.

A click, and his counting stopped.

The door was opened less than an inch at first, remained like that for a moment, and was then pulled open, slowly. Fei Long almost hid behind it, when Asami entered, stepping onto the dark stone floor of the entrance area that looked like it was supposed to give the impression of entering a traditional Japanese house. There was a sliding door, that stood open beneath an inclined ceiling complete with wooden roof beams. A giant hewn jade stone was the only decoration… except for the Chinese, who leaned against the golden-tinted walls and still held tight to the doorknob.

Asami laid one hand against the door and slowly, pulling it from the other man’s hand, pushed it shut. With another click it closed.

Fei Long jerked away from the wall, without a second look at his guest, and hurriedly stepped out of the entrance area. Taking off his shoes, Asami followed into the living-areas of the suite, which where all fitted with Tatami.

There was a short corridor that connected the bathroom and a large walk-in-closet with the vast bedroom. Illuminated on a pedestal of black wood a gigantic bed with creamy sheets and pillows remained as of yet untouched. Shoji, sliding doors and wood wainscot and ceiling created a feeling as if one was indeed in some traditional, maybe even historical building. But the Byobu, the golden folding screen, above the bed was shielded by a very modern, giant glass screen and the daybed that stood in front of the large window allowed to marvel at Tokyo Tower about one mile away and protruding from the artificial ocean of stars all around.

Fei Long had walked through here, into the next room: A sitting area with a giant tv, a small office area and an adjacent tearoom. Next to a golden Champagne cooler he had stopped, turning back around to his guest.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asked. His eyes only flickered across Asami now and then, but never stayed focused long.

The coffee table and the chaiselongue of the bronze leather couch were laden with gifts Fei Long had received for his birthday – most presumably from the men whom he had met to do business with today. But as this had been an official meeting – not one of the underground world in which he usually trod – it was not unlikely that other acquaintances had heard as well that he would be here today and had arranged for their presents to be delivered to the hotel. There were pretty paper bags of some expensive designer brands, some boxes still wrapped in shimmering wrappings, a large bouquet of white Anemones and Eustoma, and pinkish Limonium between twigs of Myrrh and Eucalyptus, and several caskets of pralines and very expensive Champagne and Whisky. The only thing that caught Asami’s eyes however was a wooden box with the logo of _‘Patek Philippe’_ engraved in silver letters on the top.

“Please”, Asami answered the question from before, and stepped up to the box, while Fei Long opened the Dom Perignon bottle from the cooler. “May I?”, he added, when he had already picked up the gift.

The reply was nothing but a _‘mh’_. There were four champagne glasses – some odd custom of many hotels: You did not only provide _one_ glass, even though the guest had booked the room for a single person, yet providing only _two_ glasses seemed as if you were suspecting your guest to bring along someone to… well… fuck. Therefore: four glasses. That was either just a meeting of friends – or an orgy.

With gentle fingers Asami opened the box and found a 1990’s 3974 Patek Philippe watch inside, with a golden case and crown, and golden hands and markers on a black surface.

“That’s quite a present”, he murmured, unable to completely conceal his awe. This watch was worth several hundred thousand. A very generous gift indeed, and the tiny paper card, that had been fixed to the buckle by a thin golden thread gave away the noble donor…

 _‘Of course!’_ , Asami snarled to himself as he read the Russian name. He closed the box with a thud and placed it back between the other presents, when Fei Long approached and handed him the glass of champagne.

“Sorry, I did not bring anything but myself”, Asami turned to him with a sly smile on his lips.

“And I’m not sure I want even _that_ …”, the Chinese retorted. He stared at the minuscule bubbles of the golden liquid.

“I can leave, if you want me to”, the other offered, speaking quietly to again hide the fling of annoyance trying to grab a hold of him.

“No”, Fei Long answered, and for once his eyes darted across the brim of the glass and towards the other man. He had lowered his head a bit and gazed at Asami from beneath those long, black lashes – and there was _now_ no insecurity or reluctance in his glance.

“Then: Happy Birthday, Fei Long!”, Asami spoke aloud, raised his glass a bit more and then drank, emptying the whole fill at once. Right away he put the empty vessel away. It hit the coffee table with a quiet _‘cling’_.

Quickly Asami advanced through the space between them, and Fei Long stepped backwards, two, three, four steps, until he had found the wall. The Chinese had only drunk a sip, but Asami took the glass from his fingers anyway, and placed it on the broad backrest of the couch without much attention of whether it would find its balance there.

After coming to his room, Fei Long had taken off his suit’s jacket, but he still wore his tie and waistcoat. He had not even opened a single button of his shirt.

Leaning with one arm against the wall, towering over the other, cornering him, Asami took a gentle hold of the tie and slowly pulled it loose. Fei Long flinched only once to the touch. Apart from that he kept staring upwards, defiance in his amethyst eyes – and maybe some malice.

As they gazed up at him, Asami found himself being strangely alert, as if his instincts expected an attack, that his body and consciousness were already too lulled to manage to anticipate. He was not really sure right now, who had actually cornered whom, no matter their physical positions.

Raising his hand again, he let his fingers move past Fei Long’s cheek, then he slowly dragged his fingertips through the black hair, feeling their silky touch, inhaling the enchanting scent of the man so close to him.

When all the strands had fallen from his fingers, he moved them across the other’s skin instead – pale and pure like the finest porcelain.

He reached his lips finally, only with his thumb, and circled around the outer lines of his mouth, lazily, hardly touching, until allowing it to rest on Fei Long’s lower lip for a moment. A bit more pressure then and he could push the tip inside, and the teeth behind parted as well and a warm tongue came to greet him. Still those amethyst eyes stared up at him – so close now, he could see every fiber of their texture and had no trouble noticing how dilated those pupils were.

Dragging his thumb out, he rubbed the moisture on it onto Fei Long’s lips, though they seemed to shimmer already, so full, so red, so inviting.

He grabbed the Chinese by the chin and snatched his mouth with his own, locking his lips with the other man’s.

There was a tiny moan the moment he pushed his tongue inside and found Fei Long’s.


End file.
